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Rain, what's that?
Jul. 27th, 2018 04:31 pmWhen we returned from circumnavigating the globe, we joked that we had travelled for 320 days, of which 310 had been warm and sunny. Then we came home to Yorkshire and the next 200-plus days were almost uniformly cold wet and dreary. Until this current spell of lovely sunshine started.
Already, it feels as though summer has been happening for months, but I remember trying to start seedlings in the conservatory, in the warm, in April this year and losing nearly all of them. Then trying to start seeds outside in one of the raised beds (on a day of serious Yorkshire weather) in May and it took more than a month for any of them to show at all. Yet now I can plant seeds one day and have their products in my salad within a week.
When the weather suddenly became warm, sunny and very unlike Yorkshire, we joked that people would be predicting a drought. Last night we were talking to a friend whose hill-top home is now waterless: the water table has dropped several feet and it is now below the level of the spring which supplies his property. (A neighbour, in a property sited a little lower, is letting him have a modest amount of water each day via a pump and hose, so they can look after the animals' needs and wash themselves occasionally).
This was in the margins of a meeting which finished unexpectedly early because the person giving us a lift had heard that there was a possibility of thunderstorms and that the Calder Valley flood protection had been alerted. It did rain in Mytholmroyd, where we held the meeting, but as we drove back to Todmorden it was clear that the rain had fallen over only a small area. Later in the evening, just before we went to bed, it rained sharply for about 10-12 minutes then stopped as quickly as it had started. No thunder, no floods, at least not where we live.
There are rumours of coming restrictions on watering gardens (although we have lots of waterbutts so we can do it anyway as long as we fill the watering cans from them) so we have been using the hose to water growing veg and, in particular, the hillside that has been planted with sedum. We were convinced to put sedum there because it is reputed to thrive on neglect and to spread out to fill the space available. Alas. there is neglect and neglect: the sedum on the bed between the conservatory and the garden steps is proceeding exactly as promised but it is not in completely full sun and hangs onto any water we give it. On the big slope that used to be thick with brambles, the sedum is actually struggling in full sun for many hours a day and on soil which is exceptionally dry. I don't think any of it has actually died, but there is evidence of scorching and shrivelling. So while Mick was busy laying bricks before breakfast today, I was busy hosing down the slope and then going round the veg beds to help our plants survive another hot weekend.
There are rumours of thunderstorms in London so we have brought umbrellas, rainproof tops and closed shoes with us. I'll believe it when I see it.
Already, it feels as though summer has been happening for months, but I remember trying to start seedlings in the conservatory, in the warm, in April this year and losing nearly all of them. Then trying to start seeds outside in one of the raised beds (on a day of serious Yorkshire weather) in May and it took more than a month for any of them to show at all. Yet now I can plant seeds one day and have their products in my salad within a week.
When the weather suddenly became warm, sunny and very unlike Yorkshire, we joked that people would be predicting a drought. Last night we were talking to a friend whose hill-top home is now waterless: the water table has dropped several feet and it is now below the level of the spring which supplies his property. (A neighbour, in a property sited a little lower, is letting him have a modest amount of water each day via a pump and hose, so they can look after the animals' needs and wash themselves occasionally).
This was in the margins of a meeting which finished unexpectedly early because the person giving us a lift had heard that there was a possibility of thunderstorms and that the Calder Valley flood protection had been alerted. It did rain in Mytholmroyd, where we held the meeting, but as we drove back to Todmorden it was clear that the rain had fallen over only a small area. Later in the evening, just before we went to bed, it rained sharply for about 10-12 minutes then stopped as quickly as it had started. No thunder, no floods, at least not where we live.
There are rumours of coming restrictions on watering gardens (although we have lots of waterbutts so we can do it anyway as long as we fill the watering cans from them) so we have been using the hose to water growing veg and, in particular, the hillside that has been planted with sedum. We were convinced to put sedum there because it is reputed to thrive on neglect and to spread out to fill the space available. Alas. there is neglect and neglect: the sedum on the bed between the conservatory and the garden steps is proceeding exactly as promised but it is not in completely full sun and hangs onto any water we give it. On the big slope that used to be thick with brambles, the sedum is actually struggling in full sun for many hours a day and on soil which is exceptionally dry. I don't think any of it has actually died, but there is evidence of scorching and shrivelling. So while Mick was busy laying bricks before breakfast today, I was busy hosing down the slope and then going round the veg beds to help our plants survive another hot weekend.
There are rumours of thunderstorms in London so we have brought umbrellas, rainproof tops and closed shoes with us. I'll believe it when I see it.
